


A Softer Kind of Joy

by goldenteaset



Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Piercings, Rites of Passage, Shippy Gen, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hakuno decides to get her ears pierced. Gilgamesh helps her and tells her how he got his earrings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Softer Kind of Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo! This oneshot isn't set during any particular time in Fate/EXTRA. I'm also not entirely sure just how shippy this would be--to the point that I'm still waffling between tagging it "Shippy Gen" or not. I may delete that tag at a later date.
> 
> Also Gil's earrings are far more fascinating to me than they should be. By which I mean I didn't expect this to be as long as it is all because of them.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/EXTRA.

Hakuno sits on the bed in her and Gilgamesh’s room, her knees brushing uncomfortably together. She runs her fingers along the smooth, unmarred shells of her ears. Small black crosses mark her lobes. _They’ll be replaced by earrings soon_.

She wonders if she made a mistake in choosing who to help her. Gilgamesh seems confident enough, wielding the plastic piercing gun as if he’s done this a thousand times—and maybe he has; he’s existed for over four thousand years, after all. But still…it’s a little unnerving, seeing the King of Heroes in his golden armor, the dark blue plastic looking fragile in his gauntleted hands.

“Let me see…” Gilgamesh peers at the capsule in his hand, then holds it out for Hakuno to inspect. “The silver studs were the ones you wanted, I believe.”

Hakuno nods. “They won’t get in the way.”

“Hah! You _should_ have bought the gold ones. A mongrel should wear her King’s colors!”

Hakuno casually shows him her hand, the crimson command seals stark against her pale skin. “A Servant-King should wear the colors of his subject and Master. It boosts morale.”

Gilgamesh chuckles and shakes his head. He doesn’t comment any further, which Hakuno takes as a victory of sorts. The bed creaks as he sits, a sound somehow both ominous and comforting. A package of alcohol wipes lies between them, freshly bought along with the earrings. Hakuno watches thoughtfully as he takes one of the wipes in his free hand and slowly rubs it against her right ear.

“Cold?” he asks teasingly, as Hakuno shifts away as the icy jolt.

“I knew it would be, but…”

“Count yourself lucky, mongrel. In my day, there was nothing to soothe you for the coming pain.”

“Hmm…I was wondering about that. Where did those earrings of yours come from, anyway?”

“Where indeed?” One warm finger casually brushes against the shell of her ear, the contact clashing with the icy sting of the alcohol.

“D-Don’t distract me!”

“Oh, did I? That couldn’t be further from my intentions.” The King of Heroes’ tone is as dry as a desert.

Hakuno sighs. “…It’s a personal thing, is that it?”

“It’s a matter of rites-of-passage, you could say. Not unlike in your time. Turn your head, mongrel—I need to anoint your other ear.”

Hakuno does so, her face now uncomfortably close to Gilgamesh’s. “Can you tell me about it? The rite-of-passage, I mean.”

“In order to do so, you’ll need to listen and not interrupt. It wouldn’t do to stab the wrong part of my Master’s ear, after all.”

Hakuno nods.

“Very well, I shall deign to answer your question. When it came time for me to become a man, I was given twelve tasks: survive for a week in the Forest of Cedars, solve ten difficult riddles in ten minutes, stop a bloody family feud from erupting within twelve hours…”

Hakuno’s mind wanders between tasks four through seven. _I suppose being a King, his coming-of-age would have to be difficult…but wouldn’t all this be too much for a kid?_

She snaps back to the present just in time to hear Gilgamesh finally say “…Pierce my ears myself, and bed one-hundred-and-twenty temple prostitutes.”

Hakuno opens her mouth, but can’t think of anything to say. What _could_ she say—anything would be either an understatement or a dry insult, and judging by Gilgamesh’s amused face he suspects all of them.

“I’m sure you find it surprising, but I did _not_ invent that last one just to catch your attention. I learned many things from those women…perhaps one day I’ll deign to show some of them to you.”

Hakuno makes her disinterest known as best she can—he _would_ be the type to try to flirt while her ear was at his mercy. Gilgamesh laughs and shrugs.

“I was able to rest in between tasks, which made them a little more surmountable. Perhaps I’ll tell you about the other tasks sometime. But you want to know about the ear piercing specifically…”

Hakuno cringes internally at the pun, then cringes outwardly as the cold wipe leaves her ear and the sudden air around it increases the freezing burn.

“I used a needle much like this one. Turn your head to the right again,” Gilgamesh continues, and Hakuno can barely feel the piercing gun pressing against her lobe. “I could choose my adornments, of course, and there were many to choose from. Dangling lion heads made of bronze, gleaming alabaster, tiny crystals…the other favorite was a similar pair to the ones I’m wearing now. They were of lapis lazuli, as deep a blue as the night sky.”

There’s a softness to his voice that Hakuno rarely hears; it reminds her of the tone an adult would have concerning their mother.

Gilgamesh seems to notice it too. “…But these earrings were the ones I chose. It was for a foolish reason at first—they caught the dawn’s rays and seemed to reflect them back. They brought me a softer kind of joy, but joy nonetheless.”

There’s a sensation like a rubber band snapping against her ear, and before Hakuno can flinch backward Gilgamesh’s hand is curled around the back of her head, keeping her still.

“I should have warned you,” he says calmly, by way of apology. “You may talk now.”

Hakuno is surprised that she can vaguely feel the stud freshly pressed into her right ear. “That didn’t take long.”

Gilgamesh smirks. “You expected anything less?”

“…Maybe.”

“Turn your head, my ungrateful Master.” He doesn’t sound angry, more annoyed and amused.

When Hakuno turns her face to his again, she is surprised by the calmness coming from him. _He_ can _focus if he puts his mind to it, after all…_

“I hope you used a clean needle for your piercings,” Hakuno said, her mind flashing to sickly-green skin infections she had seen in medical books.

“It was as carefully cleaned as possible. A King cannot become infected.”

Hakuno tries not to laugh. “Do Kings have special anti-infection genes, or something?”

“A King must be above their subjects—to be ill means to be weak.” His tone holds all the enthusiasm of a child reciting a rulebook.

“Then you never got sick when you were alive?”

“Not that I can recall, no. When I answered petitions, I was always seated on a throne far away from any soiled mongrels.”

Hakuno frowns. “…So you couldn’t get to know your people?”

Gilgamesh sniffs disdainfully. “Of _course_ I could. A King who knows nothing of his people is easy prey for the same. A simple glance at history can tell you that, mongrel.”

“…Wait, then how…?”

Gilgamesh chuckles, and the look in his eyes reminds Hakuno sharply of a mischievous boy. “Sneaking out of one’s home when unsupervised is a long-held tradition among youth, be they King or commoner.”

Hakuno laughs softly. A mental image of a young King of Uruk eagerly escaping his tutors and wandering through the streets of his city passes briefly through her mind.

“Hmm? Do you find that thought amusing?”

“Sort of. I was just wondering if you snuck out often.”

“As often as I could manage.” The tip of Gilgamesh’s tongue pokes briefly out of his mouth, then retreats like a turtle going back to its shell. “I imagine my tutors would be aggrieved to know I’m still ‘lazing about when there’s work to be done’. I’m quite happy to continue doing so. Long may they tear out their hair at my existence!”

“I wouldn’t call this lazing about. You’re helping me, after all.”

“I suppose.” Gilgamesh looks at her slyly. “Tell me, Master…you had no interest in earrings and other such adornments before. What changed?”

Hakuno’s brows furrow, and her face burns. “I know what you’re thinking. _You_ didn’t make me change my mind.”

It’s not a lie—she really doesn’t know what made her want to get her ears pierced. She just saw the studs and felt like being frivolous.

She tells Gilgamesh so, and Gilgamesh’s sly look doesn’t change. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything. He cups the back of her head with unexpected tenderness just in time for the snapping feeling to jolt against her ear. She shivers at the heat of his fingers, how carefully and easily they hold her still.

“Finished,” Gilgamesh says softly, even as his hands take their sweet time leaving her skin.

Hakuno opens her small compact mirror and takes a look: her ears are ruddy, tingling, and soon to be sore, but the gleaming silver studs look as good as she thought they would.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling at her reflection.

“They still should have been gold,” Gilgamesh’s reflection says with a childish pout.

Hakuno ignores his complaining and focuses on the slight, soft feeling of joy curling in her chest.


End file.
